


A Kiss On New Year's Eve

by MidnightShadeux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bartender Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightShadeux/pseuds/MidnightShadeux
Summary: Everyone thought Harry was mad wanting to spend New Year's Eve working, but the laughter and drunken dancing of the patrons of the pub were far better and more relaxing than having to give speeches at the Ministry Party or feeling out of place as his friends celebrated with their family.At least it was, until Draco Malfoy strolled in.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 19
Kudos: 184





	A Kiss On New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I know this is late, but it took longer to edit than I thought and it was post now or wait another year.
> 
> Please be nice. This is my first time posting Drarry, which is my OTP, so I'm super nervous.

New Year’s Eve was always manic.

It seemed everyone in the county was in _The Jolly Rodger_ , the little pub Harry worked at. Normally they’d have a few regulars who appeared every other night (if not all nights), a tonne of business people on Friday afternoons, and families out for dinner on Sunday nights but nothing to this magnitude and not a clientele this eclectic. Young people, old people, single people, couples, groups of friends, _everyone_ was here. It was amazing.

Amazing, loud and chaotic.

Rumbustious, joyful laughter was bouncing off the old walls and a constant stream of chatter accompanied it. Music was playing in the background and the TV broadcasting the lead-up to the celebrations was on, but it was useless as it was completely drowned out by the noise. Waitresses were manoeuvring themselves through the heaving crowd with a skill that was almost supernatural, determined expressions on their faces and a death glare for anyone who got in their way. Bodies were pressed closely together, some people flirting with each other, some couples getting frisky, some people smushing together in the booths to fit more people in, and others pressing together simply because there was just no room. The poor bartenders – including Harry – were running up and down the bar trying to fulfil the non-stop orders as quickly as possible, responding to the yells and calls of the patrons and getting drinks out in record time. The giant clock projected onto the wall of the pub read two and a half hours until midnight. Harry noticed that with every passing hour the patrons became more and more excitable and increasingly drunk.

Harry loved it.

Harry smiled as he poured a pint of cider into a glass and pushed it towards one of his favourite regular customers.

“Here you go, Seb.”

Seb snatched the pint like Harry would steal it back from him before raising it, “Cheers, Harry.”

Harry gave him a two-fingered salute before moving on to the next customer.

“It’s too bad you had to work tonight, Harry Barry,” another regular, Gerald, slurred, letting Harry know he was only a few pints away from unconsciousness. “You could be out getting hammered and…enjoying some female company, if you get my drift.”

It was hard not to when Gerald was thrusting into thin air to highlight his point.

Seb and the other men in the immediate vicinity laughed boisterously and clapped the man on the back. Gerald beamed at the attention and stumbled back a few steps, luckily landing on one of the bar stools. Harry was mentally deciding on what cab company to call to take Gerald home and when he’d have the time to do it.

Seb raised a finger at him and said sternly, “He’s right, Harry. This ain’t no way to celebrate New Year’s…working.” ~~~~

“I don’t mind,” Harry said, shrugging.

Gerald was shaking his head, “No, no, no, no, Seb. It’s a _good_ thing he’s working. If he wasn’t, where would we get the sweet nectar of the gods?”

There were mumbles of agreement, the men nodding seriously at the well-made point with serious frowns on their faces.

“Someone else could do it!”

“But then _they’d_ be missing the lady-love!” Jason, a young banker who Harry knew had work tomorrow said. He flittered his eyes in Harry’s direction, “Or man-love. Whatever floats your boat.”

Harry smiled and shook his head in amusement. He loved the completely wacky turns conversations could take when people lost their inhibitions.

The truth was he’d volunteered to work New Year’s Eve. The other bartenders thought he was crazy to _want_ to work on their second busiest day of the year (St. Patrick’s Day was a mess) but had happily accepted it as they got the much-coveted day off. He enjoyed working and the celebrations he’d been invited to didn’t appeal to him. The Grand Ministry New Year’s Party? Sure, if he wanted to spend the evening being goggled at, coerced into making a speech or being forced to listen to a speech about him, and then spend the morning reading about his drunken escapades and humiliations in _The Daily Prophet._ The Burrow? Nope. Watching a whole lot of gingers getting drunk and confessing things he didn’t want to know, George becoming depressed as he held a photo of his twin, and avoiding Ginny and her new boyfriend and all the awkwardness that followed was not his idea of fun. A small gathering at Ron and Hermione’s? That’s what he usually he did, but the arrival of little Rose had changed things. It meant celebrations were quiet and cut short when the baby woke up, Harry would have Hermione urging him to hold the baby and encouraging him to settle down soon, making suggestions on people he could potentially date, and, if Hermione allowed him to drink, Ron would start spouting off graphic details about his and Hermione’s sex life. And, in all honesty, Harry had started to feel like he was intruding on their precious family time and that he didn’t belong there, despite both his friends insisting he was family so they would welcome him.

No, Harry would rather spend his time getting paid to keep busy, hang around with people he liked and listen to some frankly bizarre conversations.

“How far away is Glasgow from Scotland?”

“About ten canoes away, Darren.”

Yeah, Harry loved his job.

* * *

Harry kept pushing drinks to whoever needed or wanted them, occasionally contributing to the discussions himself. After another half an hour, punters started pouring out into their little beer garden as the pub filled to capacity and the room became too warm with the body heat. Harry relaxed a little as it happened because it left some space in the room for everyone to move. The uninterrupted surge of people that had been coming in since around seven o’ clock also slowed, either because everyone who would be out tonight was already out or because they’d realised there was no room in this pub so went somewhere else. Harry didn’t care what the reason was. He finally had time to clean the spillages off the bar and concentrate on the customers in front of him.

Just as Harry was thinking maybe nobody else would come in - it had been more than half an hour since the last customer had entered - a cold blast of wintery air hit him as the main door opened. He groaned quietly before casting a quick glance in that direction. Five people, three men and two women by the looks of it, all young. Harry wondered if they’d be trouble; if they wanted to be drunk by midnight, which a lot of people their age did, they’d have to drink a lot very quickly. The women were not dressed for the Winter weather in short cocktail dresses and heels with not even a cardigan between them. The men were a little better, with two of them carrying jackets and one wrapped up in a scarf and hat. Harry immediately designated that one as his favourite; he couldn’t stand people who prioritised fashion over practicality and this one seemed to have some sense to him.

They walked over to a booth that had freed up not five minutes ago and Harry turned back to the boys at the bar. Gerald had started trying to blow beer bubbles through his nose, Jason was eyeing him with mild horror and a lot of curiosity, and Seb was poking a pretzel with a straw and glaring at it like it had stolen his alcohol. Harry was idly wondering if they’d make it to midnight or if he’d have to cut them off before then when he caught a flash of white-blonde hair in the corner of his eye.

He instinctively stiffened, his brain associating the signature colour with a certain school rival of his, and his head snapped towards the source.

The guy in the new group had taken his hat off – a hat that, now Harry was looking closely, was a suspicious silver and green colour.

He stared. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. It was such a strange image and one that his mind couldn’t have conjured up alone, he wasn’t imaginative enough. There was one prominent question screaming at him though:

_What the hell was Draco Malfoy doing in a muggle pub on New Year’s Eve?_

And there was no doubt it was Malfoy. That hair colour only belonged to one family and Harry would recognise those delicate features and slim figure anywhere. He’d spent the entirety of his teenaged years with the menace, insults spewing from that pretty mouth and the gorgeous blonde locks messed up from fights or Quidditch matches. He looked a little different, his hair swept artfully to the side instead of slicked back like it had been back then, making him look more relaxed, and instead of long black robes, Malfoy was wearing tight-fitting ripped jeans and a shirt the clung to his chest to proudly display his muscles.

The most obvious difference was that the lips he was so used to seeing curled up in a sneer were parted and the corners curled up as he laughed at whatever the people with him were saying. Harry had never seen that expression on his face before.

Malfoy looked good. Harry hated him for it.

One of the women Malfoy was with turned to look towards the bar, likely to see if it was quiet enough to order drinks, and caught Harry staring with his mouth agape. She followed his line of sight and Harry saw her smirk as she deduced he was staring at Malfoy. She obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion and assumed he was lusting after her friend. She flicked her eyes back at Harry once before leaning forwards and nudging Malfoy on the arm, jerking her head in the direction of the bar and mumbling something to him.

_No! No, don’t tell him I’m here!_

It was too late of course.

Harry knew he should look away and quickly go back to serving customers so when Malfoy did spot him it wouldn’t be to the embarrassing sight of Harry looking like a surprised fish with drool coming out of its mouth, but he couldn’t do it. His eyes were glued to Malfoy and he watched in horror as Malfoy turned slowly to see what his friend had wanted to show him and his gaze fell on Harry.

Malfoy’s eyes widened at the exact same time Harry’s did and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Clearly, he had been expecting to see Harry as much as Harry had been expecting to see him.

They simply stared at each other for what felt like an age, neither of them breaking eye contact nor making a move to say anything either. They must’ve looked like a right pair, gormlessly watching each other from opposite sides of the room over the heads of numerous drunk dancing people oblivious to their surroundings.

Harry broke first as someone started clicking their fingers in his face and snapped him back to reality.

He blinked a couple of times before his attention was drawn to the owner of the fingers and he found the slightly concerned face of Seb.

“You alright, Harry?”

Harry nodded, “Yes.” His voice croaked and he wanted to hit himself.

“Right,” Seb said, “It’s just we’ve been trying to ask you a question for the last few minutes and you looked like you were on another planet.”

“Yeah!” Gerald blurted out loudly, “We were like ‘Earth to Harry. Come in Harry. How’s Jupiter, Harry?’” He giggled and nearly fell off his chair.

Harry cleared his throat. “Sorry, guys. Just seen someone I knew from school is all. Bit embarrassing.”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Harry chuckled, “No.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“No!” Harry said hurriedly and a tiny bit too loudly if the looks he was getting from the table nearest to them was anything to go by. “No,” he repeated quieter. The images that brought to mind were not something Harry wanted to think about. Malfoy and he had never and would never do that.

No matter how bloody fit the prick looked.

“Anyway, what was it you were trying to ask me?” He said, trying to divert the conversation back to something safer.

“Do you think Henry VIII knew Jack the Ripper?”

Harry smiled before going into a small lecture about the unlikelihood of a sixteenth-century English monarch knowing a Victorian serial killer.

When he glanced back at Malfoy, he was back to laughing with his friends although it didn’t look as relaxed as it had before.

* * *

Malfoy was driving him insane.

It had been a fairly regular thing when they were younger, but Malfoy had really stepped up his game this time. He hadn’t spoken a single word to Harry and Harry still wanted to punch him for the turmoil he was causing in him.

Harry could hear his stupid laugh all the way across the room and whenever he looked over at the table Malfoy’s face was always lit up in happiness or his hands were waving animatedly as he told a story. He didn’t look like the same stuck-up, stiff bully he’d been. He’d nod along, listening intently when someone was talking to him and at one point Harry saw him throw an arm around the shoulders of one of the guys and pull him into a hug. Harry pushed down the irrational jealousy that reared its head. There was no reason for it. Him and Malfoy weren’t friends or anything; did he really feel possessive over the twat just because he’d been such a huge part of Harry’s life?

Harry could swear he felt Malfoy’s eyes on him but whenever he spun around to try to catch him in the act, the man was mid-conversation with his friends and pretending Harry didn’t exist.

That was what annoyed Harry the most: that Malfoy was ignoring him.

Harry’s customer service had deteriorated along with his sanity. The unnaturally speedy pint-pulling he’d been boasting earlier had slowed significantly - not enough for the bar manager to send him home but enough to be noticed. His usual standards of drinks had plummeted, any combos he made didn’t taste as they should and had to be remade, and he’d spilled so much alcohol on the bar and himself that everything reeked of beer. Every time a customer tried speaking to him he’d quickly become disinterested and find his attention wandering to the table of five a little distance away.

He knew the culprit. It was Malfoy. It was always Malfoy that was to blame. He’d thrown Harry off his game and distracted him by spawning millions of questions in his head.

Should Harry approach him? What did he do if Malfoy approached him? Did he start a conversation? Did he ignore him? Did he pretend like he didn’t recognise Malfoy? That last one would be pretty hard to do seeing as Harry had already been caught ogling him but if he tried hard enough he could make it believable. Then there was the matter of what Malfoy was doing here. Was he following Harry? Was he investigating him? Was he going to sell information on what he’d seen here and Harry’s whereabouts to the papers? Harry had ensured only a few people knew he worked here so he could do it in peace, but Malfoy could ruin that now. Was he here for fun? Why this pub? Why was he with those people? Who were those people? Would they hex each other and get arrested for magic in front of muggles? Would they act fake chummy around each other so as to not raise suspicion? Was he up to something nefarious? Harry tried to remind himself that the chance of that was small and even if Malfoy was plotting something, it wasn’t his problem. He was just a bartender. But it was so easy to fall into old habits.

And then the dangerous questions. What was Malfoy like now? He seemed relaxed and reasonable with his gang, and acted like an actual decent human being, but was that reserved for them or was he like that with everyone? Was it all an act? Could he ever act like that with Harry? Could they be friends? What would he think of Harry? Was he suffering the same fate as Harry right now? Questions running through his brain with no answers? Did Harry want to talk to him? Did he want to get to know him better? Did he want to-?

 _No!_ He wouldn’t finish that thought. He suspected he knew the answer anyway but he’d never admit it.

He dragged his eyes away from Malfoy for what felt like the millionth time that night and topped up Jason’s glass, receiving a crooked smile in thanks.

By this point Harry had worked out that Malfoy’s little group were taking it in turns to buy rounds, though only a couple had been served by Harry. Harry knew that couldn’t continue for the whole night and eventually Malfoy would be in front of him. Each time they finished a round, Harry would panic that Malfoy would be the next to rise and approach him. He was always caught somewhere between relieved and disappointed when it didn’t happen. Each time it wasn’t it made it more likely that next time it would be and Harry felt like his life was on a countdown determined by the amount of beer in a glass. During one round he’d actually filled their table’s glasses with as much as possible to delay the inevitable but when half of it had slopped out all over the floor on the return journey he’d decided it wasn’t worth the clean-up.

This round was the responsibility of one of the two women, specifically the one who’d originally outed Harry’s presence to Malfoy. She was pretty, he admitted reluctantly, with long legs exposed by her short black dress and a curvy figure. She also gave the impression that she was the sort of girl who’d knock your teeth out if you insulted her or her loved ones.

She sidled up to the bar and rested her arm on the sticky top without flinching, smiling at Harry in a way he was sure was supposed to be semi-sweetly but instead made her look like a hungry shark.

She scared him.

But he was the defeater of the Dark Lord, the most-evil wizard of all time, and had fought in a war; he would not be cowed by a twenty-something year old woman in heels so sharp he was pretty sure she could impale someone if she tried.

“What can I get you?” He said, pulling out five glasses from under the bar.

Her shark-smile widened and she rattled off their order. Harry nodded and went about making the beverages, trying to avoid looking at her. If any of their group was going to bring up Malfoy it would be her.

She was silent for the most part, the only sound coming from her was her nails drumming on the bar top. Harry wondered if he’d get away with simply handing over her drinks without her uttering a word to him.

He wasn’t that lucky.

“I see you’re taken by my darling Draco.”

Harry’s hands jerked on the glass he was holding. “Um, excuse me?”

“Draco. The gorgeous blonde Adonis at my table? The guy you’ve been drooling over since we got here? You know he looks even better under those clothes.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry said hurriedly. At her raised eyebrow encouraging further explanation (a move that reminded him strangely of Hermione), he elaborated, “We went to school together. That’s all.”

“Oh, I see. The boarding school up in Scotland that taught specialised topics?”

Harry blinked at her for a moment in confusion. Why was that a question? Didn’t everyone know Hogwarts? It was the only wizard school in the country, where else would he be referring to? And why was she talking about it in such an odd way? He guessed that was what Hogwarts was in very generic terms but that was overly cryptic for no reason. Sure, there were muggles around and wizards always needed to be careful with what they said around them, but not _that_ careful. She could mention the name of the school without indicating it was magic. Was she trying to be funny? Make a joke with the bartender to lure him in to agreeing to whatever she wanted him to do?

“Um, sure, that’s the one.” He smiled awkwardly at her in case he was expected to react with amusement.

She nodded. “Draco told us about his school. Said they taught very unique topics rather than normal things. Is it true you studied ancient runes and never studied maths? Or is Draco playing some elaborate prank? Because if it’s true I’m pretty sure what your school did is illegal.”

Slowly, the puzzle pieces slotted together in Harry’s brain; not mentioning Hogwarts by name, referring to it in such a vague way, questioning its existence, and not knowing it taught only magical subjects. Now he was thinking about it, none of the group had reacted to him being Harry Potter either. They didn’t fight to come up to the bar to be the one to speak with him, none of them flung themselves at him or gushed over him or talked with him longer than necessary which wizards usually did with Harry. He’d not thought it was strange until now and had assumed they were treating him like that because they were friends with Malfoy, but they hadn’t sneered at him or given any indication they’d recognised him at all. He was just a random bartender they never intended to see again.

Because they weren’t wizards.

_Muggle. She’s a muggle._

His head shot up when he made the conclusion and he immediately sought out Malfoy. For the first time that night, Malfoy was looking straight at him, his body turned towards Harry’s across the room, and as their eyes met he slowly shook his head. Harry got the message.

_Don’t tell her._

Harry let his gaze flicker quickly over the rest of the table before looking at Malfoy questioningly. Malfoy shrugged and nodded sheepishly with a grimace but turned back to his friends when one of the men tapped him on the shoulder.

_So all muggles then._

Which added a huge, impossible question to Harry’s list: why was Draco Malfoy, a pureblood wizard from one of the oldest wizarding lines in the world, hanging out in a muggle pub on New Year’s Eve with muggle friends?

“Yo, mate, you finished with the cherries?”

Harry startled a little and discovered he’d been hogging the cherry garnishes for the last few minutes. Silently, he handed them over to the other bartender.

The woman was watching him carefully when he returned his attention to her, having observed his silent conversation with Malfoy. There was something in her expression that worried Harry. It was the same look Hermione sported when she’d latched on to an idea and was determined to see it through.

“Well?”

“Um…can you repeat the question?”

She laughed loudly and openly before smiling softly at him.

“Never mind.” She held her hand out, “I’m Felicity.”

Harry happily shook it, “Harry.”

Recognition flashed across her face but it wasn’t the recognition Harry received in the Wizarding World. “Ah. _The_ Harry?”

“Um, I don’t think so? There’s no way Malfoy mentioned me.”

She frowned and ran her eyes up and down his body in a way that was invasive. “Scruffy black hair, killer green eyes,” she grabbed the olive from her drink and ate it before poking his bicep with the stick, “muscles hidden under hideous clothes. Were there multiple Harrys meeting your description at school?”

Harry didn’t know what to feel about that. Part of him was offended at the fashion assassination as he knew his clothes were way better than they were in school (they fit for a start) but the main part was screaming _‘Malfoy talked about me to his muggle friends!’_ in a unnecessarily gleeful tone.

“Ah, no, just me. Can’t believe he brought me up in conversation,” he grimaced, “I’m guessing none of it was positive. We weren’t exactly friends.”

She smirked, “So you never spied on him in the showers after football matches?”

“What?! No!”

Well, yes, he had once or twice admired Malfoy when he was hot and sweaty after a Quidditch match and in the shower. But she didn’t need to know that.

It didn’t matter. He could tell she didn’t believe him.

“Uh huh. Well, we should get to know each other, Harry. We need to if you’re gonna be screwing my best friend. Feel free to join us at any point tonight.”

She grabbed her tray of drinks and walked away before Harry could say anything.

* * *

After the frankly weird conversation with Felicity, Harry tried to throw himself back into his work. If he didn’t do well tonight there was a chance the manager wouldn’t want him back for main holidays and that was something Harry couldn’t afford to lose. Yet he felt Malfoy’s presence buzzing around him and caught the flash of his blonde hair every so often which made truly matching his usual standards impossible.

Malfoy’s friends had all started eyeing him curiously when they came up to the bar too and now seemed to be targeting him. When they came to get their drinks, they would all head straight for him even if he wasn’t free and asked him the sort of questions that made Harry feel as if he was being interrogated. He guessed Felicity had told them about their conversation and they’d all made it their mission to get some serious info on him and Malfoy’s relationship.

For some reason, all questions seemed to be geared towards romance.

First up was one of the guys. Red hair, black blazer, startling blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Hi.”

“So you been in many relationships, Harry?”

It appeared Bruce didn’t believe in beating around the bush nor did he have any sort of knowledge of social norms. People didn’t just ask someone they met four seconds ago about their romantic life.

“Er...some. Not too many.”

“How many?”

Overly personal. It creeped Harry out but he was a bartender, he’d heard stranger and way more tasteless questions aimed at him and had people share details about their life he didn’t want or need to know.

“Maybe four solid attempts?”

“Men or women?”

“What can I get you to drink, Bruce?”

He wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality or any of his partners, but damn that was inappropriate. Luckily for him, Bruce seemed to know when to call it quits, grinned, ordered, and took his tray back to the table where him and Felicity immediately huddled together for a hushed conversation.

* * *

Second was Scarlett.

“Do you get many couples in here, Harry?”

She didn’t even introduce herself, but along with her short, sequined pink dress and hot pink heels she was wearing a necklace that spelled out her name. There was nothing intrusive about this question and it seemed innocent enough so Harry answered

“Yeah, we do actually. Usually on a Saturday for dates or Wednesdays for a mid-work-week break. We get all kinds of couples. Uni students coming for their first dates and bringing their friends for backup, husbands and wives coming for a break from the kids, elderly couples coming for a nice and quiet pub lunch. It’s really interesting seeing and talking to such a varied group of people.”

“Have you ever brought a boyfriend here?”

Harry’s heart dropped. He could see where this was going. “Er, no.”

“Oh. Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Any date at all?”

“No.”

“Is that because it’d be a busman’s holiday, your work colleagues would never shut up about it, you don’t think a pub is a great first date location, or you’re too socially inept to get a partner?”

“Okay. You want the same as last time or did you want a different drink?”

* * *

Mike was the worst.

It came as a complete surprise. The guy looked nerdy and bookish with a light blue cardigan on, curly brunette hair and warm brown eyes hidden behind glasses only slightly more stylish than Harry’s were. He greeted Harry with a soft smile that showed off his dimples. He looked like the sort of person who would be hunkered down in a library studying engineering rather than a guy hanging out with social drinkers who had no sense of personal boundaries.

Harry should’ve known better. There must’ve been a reason he fit in with the group and it turned out he was the biggest pervert of them all.

“Hello. I’m Mike. I’m sorry about my friends, I know they can be a bit much.”

Harry smiled, relieved that he’d finally caught a break. “Yeah.”

“I’m told you knew Draco in school?”

“Yeah. Same school, same year, different houses.”

“These are the animal houses?”

“Animal houses?”

Mike frowned trying to recall what Malfoy had obviously told him. “Snake, lion, eagle and…”

“Badger,” Harry finished when Mike trailed off.

Mike snapped his fingers, “That’s the one. Draco was a snake. Which were you?”

Harry put his hand over his heart, “Proud lion.”

“Ah. The enemy house of the snakes.”

“Yup.” Harry wondered if he should be worried about how much Malfoy had told his muggle friends. Still, nothing so far was hurting anyone or violating the Statute of Secrecy.

“Bet that caused some tension.”

“You have no idea.”

“You didn’t get on?”

“No?”

Sensing Harry was uncomfortable, Mike thankfully changed the direction of the conversation.

“You both played sport for your houses? Same position?”

“Yeah.”

“Football?”

“Sure.”

“So you’re both pretty flexible then?”

“I guess so?”

It was fine. It was innocent. Harry was sure it was innocent and he was reading too much into it.

“So the sex should be pretty spectacular. I bet you could both get into some really erotic positions.”

“What?”

Mike hummed, “And all that tension that built up being on opposing sides. Probably turned sexual at some point. Did you ever release it? Did you have hate-sex in the showers?”

“No!”

“Did you want to have hate-sex in the showers?”

“Yes! No!”

A slow, creepy smile spread across Mike’s face and his eyes lit up the same way Ron’s did when he’d been offered food, only far more sinister. Harry realised he’d walked straight into a trap.

“I don’t blame you. Draco is very easy on the eyes. Every part of him is mouth-watering, believe me. I’ve seen him without those well-fitting clothes on during a game of strip poker and my god. I used to think his clothes left little to the imagination but it was so much better than anything my imagination could conjure up. His legs seem to go on forever and his abs look like they were sculpted by the gods. His strong arms would be perfect for pinning you down whilst he fucked you and his cock-”

Harry squeaked.

“Well, I’ll leave that for you to find out for yourself. Of course,” he continued, “Draco’s also painfully shy and insecure about his body, even though he really doesn’t need to be. The blush that appeared when he was bare spread all over his face and down his chest making him look somehow adorable and sexy at the same time. He needs someone strong and confident to take control in bed and reassure him I think.” He paused and looked Harry over, “You should take him into the loos right now and do that. You look like someone who’d be perfect for him.”

Harry dropped the glass he was holding and it smashed all over the floor into tiny pieces.

Roger, his manager, came running over. “Is everything okay?”

Harry swallowed hard and opened his mouth to reply but Mike beat him to it.

“Oh, everything’s fine sir. I was just chatting with Harry and surprised him I think. It wasn’t his fault at all.”

Roger studied Mike’s face for a few seconds. The man wasn’t stupid; he’d worked in pubs too long to not be able to tell when he was being told only part of a story. Harry may not have seen Mike’s onslaught coming, but he doubted Roger would be fooled by the man’s supposed innocence. 

“Bertie, please fulfil the rest of this gentleman’s order.”

“Sure thing, boss. If you wanna come over here, sir, I’ll sort you out.”

Mike shot one last look at Harry, “Think about what I said, Harry. You won’t be disappointed.”

When Mike was out of earshot, Roger rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Harry nodded wordlessly.

Roger considered Harry’s pale face carefully, “Maybe you should take your break a little early tonight, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “No, no, no, I can still work! Don’t send me out back!”

Roger raised a hand to calm him down, “I’m not saying you can’t work, but you’ve been a bit off the last hour.” Harry hung his head, ashamed Roger had noticed. “I don’t know what that guy did, but can you tell me you can shake it off immediately and return to your usual standard of work?”

Harry didn’t want to lie to Roger so he didn’t answer but that was enough.

He nodded, “Take your thirty-minute break now. Calm down, get your head on straight, have a drink and a snack, then come back out and be your usual kick-ass self. Okay?”

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was okay. He wasn’t fired. He wasn’t in trouble, and reluctantly he admitted Roger might have a point. He could use some time to brush off all the vivid images Mike’s words had brought to mind and the sudden flare of lust that accompanied them.

“Okay.”

Just before he slipped out, he caught Malfoy staring at him with concern from across the room. Harry felt his eyes stay on him until he’d pushed the door to the staff room open and disappeared from view.

* * *

Harry would admit that the half hour break had done wonders for him. He’d managed to come to terms with Malfoy being there with his weird, overly friendly muggle friends and promised himself he’d act professionally and cordially whenever they came for drinks.

Mostly professionally anyway. He resolved that if they were going to interrogate him, he’d turn the tables and interrogate them. He wanted information too, after all, and who better to reveal secrets about Malfoy than his probably tipsy drinking buddies? Maybe they could answer some of the questions that were buzzing through his brain and keeping him distracted.

In terms of the blonde himself, Harry had decided that when Malfoy came up to the bar to buy his round, he’d acknowledge him and make likely awkward small talk instead of straight up ignoring him as his original plan had been. There was no point being rude or bearing a grudge, it’d been years since they’d fought and they’d been children at the time. Hell, it’d been years since Harry had even _seen_ Malfoy, he’d only heard what he’d been up to through the rumour mill.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to the moment Malfoy finally came up to him. Harry was self-aware enough to acknowledge he may have been a little too interested in Malfoy, borderline obsessed with him in sixth year. Malfoy had been a huge part of his life, perhaps just as much as Ron and Hermione, and if Harry was being honest it had taken a while to adjust to the lack of Malfoy in his life when school finished. Every time he said something stupid he expected a nasty laugh and insult to follow and was surprised when it didn’t. He’s not sure he’d say he’d missed the bastard, but he was definitely interested in finding out what he’d been up to, what he was like now, if he was still an arsehole…

And if he was seeing anyone.

By his calculations, Malfoy was the next member of their group to buy the round. Harry wouldn’t have to wait too long until the man was in front of him and he didn’t know whether he was dreading it or was worryingly excited.

Harry had a spring in his step as he returned to his normal spot behind the bar.

Seb’s group hadn’t moved since he’d left and he grinned at them.

“Hi guys! I’m back. Are you all good for now or did you need a top up?”

They all cheered and raised their half-finished glasses at him before requesting more beers. Harry wondered how any of them were still standing.

After ten successful minutes of not looking at Malfoy, Harry broke and glanced over.

The group were still at the same table in the same seats and laughing uproariously at something Bruce had said. He frowned as he noticed all of them had semi-full glasses rather than the nearly empty ones they’d had when he left.

“The hot blonde already came up to get drinks. You missed it, buddy.”

“What?”

Seb jerked his head in the direction of Malfoy’s table, “The handsome studmuffin you’ve been mooning over since he came in. He bought his round from Terrence when you were on break.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He frowned when Seb’s words caught up to him. “I have not been ‘mooning’ over him.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I haven’t!”

“You should just ask him out,” Gerald contributed. How the man could still speak full sentences Harry couldn’t tell. “He’s hot. You’re hot. You’re clearly into him. He’s clearly into you. He checks you out whenever he thinks you’re not looking. Go get all that man-love. We told you you needed it earlier. Start the new year off with a bang.” He grinned at his own dirty joke.

Harry glared at them, “I will cut you off if you keep talking about this.”

That shut them up. They all averted their eyes and Jason loudly started discussing the benefits of his favourite hobby: flower pressing.

Harry went back to serving, a woman at the end of the bar flagging him down, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what the men had said. Had Malfoy really been checking him out? Gerald was drunk so Harry wasn’t sure he should be trusting his judgement, nor was he completely sure how to feel about Malfoy being interested in him. Should he be alarmed? It was his school rival after all, someone he had hated and who had bullied his friends relentlessly for years, making their lives miserable. Should he be pleased? Gerald had a point, Malfoy was hot; so hot it hurt Harry to look at him for too long and made his heart flutter. Harry would have to be blind and stupid not to notice that. He had a lovely laugh and a beautiful smile, and Harry would never admit it out loud but he’d had several _interesting_ fantasies about Malfoy before. However, it wasn’t just physical attraction. If it was Harry wouldn’t be thinking too deeply about it. He was curious about Malfoy. He had always suspected that maybe Malfoy of all people understood him better than anyone else; they'd both had similar experiences in the war despite being on different sides and seen up close just what Voldemort was capable of. Even though his friends had suffered, they didn’t understand the obligation of having to fight and had volunteered. Malfoy certainly had not. Plus, Malfoy had never once treated Harry like he was Merlin’s gift to Wizardkind like the majority of the population which Harry needed.

There was definitely unfinished business and unexplored feelings there.

Did Harry want to explore it?

Did Malfoy want to explore it? 

Was Malfoy even available?

The next time Felicity came up for her obligatory round he asked her.

“Hey! You’re back!” She grinned as she tottered up to the bar. “I missed you, Harry.”

She was a little worse off than when he’d seen her last. By this point she’d had quite a few potent cocktails.

“Hi, Felicity,” he smiled at her. He needed to butter her up if he was going to get what he wanted.

“You remembered! I’m flattered.”

“Well it’s hard to forget a stunning beauty such as yourself.” Harry hoped he successfully kept the grimace off his face. Felicity was far from ugly but he never flirted with the customers or flirted in general. He absolutely sucked at it.

Turned out Felicity was too drunk to notice. She giggled and waved her hand at him, “Stop it! I mean it’s true, but we both know it’s not me you want to fuck over the nearest flat surface!” Her giggles stopped abruptly and she froze, seeming to realise something. Harry was slightly afraid when she squinted at him suspiciously, “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently, “Can’t I compliment a girl without having ulterior motives?”

“Not when you want to lick chocolate sauce off the naked body of said girl’s very pretty male friend.” She scrutinised him for a moment before she smirked and raised a finger at him accusingly, “Ah. You want to know about Draco. You want to dig up all the nasty little secrets I know about him, any information you can by plying me with free booze. You want me to betray my friends trust.”

“I would never!” Harry said. For one thing, they weren’t allowed to give out free booze due to a previous incident with a staff member giving away hundreds of pounds of product for free to girls he wanted to seduce. If that wasn’t the case he’d probably try it. “I’m simply letting you know you are a beautiful young woman. Frankly, I’m offended you’d think so low of me as to assume I’m manipulating you. I would never do that. And I-”

“He’s single.”

“Is he?” He hated how hopeful he sounded.

“Uh huh. Are you?”

Harry considered not answering but saw no harm in it, “Yeah.”

She clapped her hands excitedly, “Fantastic.”

She grabbed her drinks, “We’ll have you licking that chocolate sauce off his body in no time.” She’d spun around and marched back to her table before Harry could think of a comeback.

* * *

Bruce was next. His hair wasn’t as styled as it was before and he’d lost the blazer.

“Yo, Harry! What’s up? You feeling better?”

“What?”

“Mike said you weren’t feeling well.”

_Goddamn Mike._

“Oh, yeah, I’m feeling fine now. Just a little dizzy spell, nothing I can’t shake off.”

“You’re like Superman. Can I get a Sex on the Beach? Without any of the gross fruit shit.”

So just Vodka then.

“Sure thing, man.”

He poured it out and considered how to broach the topic he wanted to know about without being obvious.

“So you all seem really close? You and your friends?”

Bruce hummed, “Yeah, we are.”

“How’d you all meet?”

“Mostly uni. Me and Mike were flatmates, Felicity was on our course and Scar was in the archery club with us.” Harry’s eyes widened. The image of Scarlett in her heels and horribly bright dress armed with a dangerous weapon was a frankly terrifying one. “Draco we found lost in the library. He was looking for the supermarket and wandered onto campus accidentally. Poor lamb.”

“Why was he looking for a supermarket?”

Bruce looked at him like he was stupid, “Er, food?” ~~~~

What Harry really meant was ‘what was Malfoy, a wizard, doing searching for a muggle supermarket’ but he couldn’t exactly ask Bruce that, so instead he just gave an embarrassed shrug and handed Bruce his Vodkas.

“Much obliged,” Bruce said before heading back to the table.

* * *

Scarlett was a little easier to deal with. She was ever drunker than Felicity and Bruce but that made her more malleable and her tongue looser.

“Oh, yeah, all of Draco’s relationships have been a total car crash,” she told Harry without much prompting, slumped over the bar, “Like total write-off car crash, mass causalities car crash, often DOA car crash. Well, when he does date at least.”

Harry nodded along, focused entirely on her words, “So does he not date very often?”

Scarlett shrugged, “Eh.”

It seemed that was all he was getting on that.

“What kinds of people does he date?”

“Ugh, there’s no in-between with Draco. He either dates boring, vanilla guys who are as interesting as a spade or complete freaks.” She looked him up and down. “Don’t worry, honey. I can assure you, you’re just his type.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be pleased or deeply offended.

“What does he do in his spare time?” Harry asked.

Scarlett opened her mouth to answer but paused as she seemed to realise something. Harry could practically see the cogs slowly turning in her brain.

“No,” she gasped, “that’s cheating! You’re meant to discover all this on a first date and the get to know you phase.”

“I already know him though,” Harry pointed out, “I’ve known him since I was eleven. I’ve literally met his parents and been to his house.” Well, had altercations with his parents and been held prisoner at his house, but it was the same thing technically.

“But do you _know_ him?” she said dramatically.

A very good question. Harry wasn’t sure.

* * *

It was like a countdown. Every time one of them stood to buy a round was one step closer to Malfoy’s turn. Eventually there was only one left.

Mike approached the bar slowly, as if approaching a startled animal that was trapped. When he reached him, Harry regarded him suspiciously.

“Can I help you?”

Mike sighed, “Look, I’m sorry for how I behaved before, Harry. I know I can be too much and get a little…intense.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“I was a complete jackass; rude, invasive, inappropriate, maybe a bit too descriptive, I can go on if you want?”

“You’re telling me things I already know, Mike.”

Mike’s lips twitched at the corners as if he wanted to smile but knew it wasn’t the right moment. ~~~~

“After I told her what I said, Felicity demanded I come over and apologise for being ‘a total dickhead who may have scarpered Draco’s chances of getting laid tonight’ and if I didn’t she’d ‘hang me by my balls from the ceiling fan and poke me in the eye with my own cock.’”

Harry grimaced, “Ouch.”

“Yeah, I know. But I would’ve come over to apologise with or without the threat. I know I screwed up and freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

Harry considered his expression carefully for any trace of deceit and found none.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, “I’ll forgive you on the condition you answer a question about Malfoy for me.”

Mike perked up immediately. “Hit me with it.”

Harry licked his lips thoughtfully. There were so many questions he wanted answers to, he’d just added more as the night had gone on, and he had to pick carefully. This could be the only question he managed to get an honest answer to.

There was only ever one question that mattered.

“Felicity said Malfoy mentioned me. What did he say?”

Mike snorted, “How long have you got?”

“Until I’ve finished your drinks.” Harry didn’t break eye contact from Mike as he slid his hand around a beer glass and, at a snail’s pace, dragged it towards him. He kept the same pace as he started filling the drink.

Mike got the message.

“Well, he first mentioned you when we were talking about secondary schools. Told us all about the snakes vs the lions and how there was this one boy he really didn’t get along with. Verbal insults, physical fights that got really bad, putting each other in the hospital wing, trickery, manipulation-”

“He did it too!”

“I know. He told us. Said you both gave as good as you got.”

“Oh.” Harry hadn’t expected that. The Malfoy of the past would rather Crucio himself than admit he was in the wrong.

“Yeah. Felicity joked that maybe there was some sexual tension there. Draco’s exact words were ‘yeah, probably.’”

Harry felt his heart beat a little faster.

“Anything else?”

“Just stuff about your fights. Finding out your greatest fear and dressing up as it to throw you off at a football match, making up some rather creative insults, breaking noses, getting his dad arrested, and one time when he was drunk he mentioned a wand fight in the girl’s bathroom that left him scarred for life.” Harry’s eyebrows jerked up in surprise and Mike nodded, “Yeah, he was really drunk. We assumed it was a euphemism and you actually just screwed but we’re not sure.”

Harry was on the last glass.

“He also mentioned you had spectacular eyes and ‘stupid messy hair that he wanted to touch.’ I can see what he meant. My god that’s a bird’s nest, isn’t it.”

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again.

“For the record,” Mike said, “I think you’d make a beautiful couple.”

“I didn’t…I haven’t…we hated each other. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Mike smirked and grabbed his tray of glasses, “You can say what you like, mate. You’ve never once indicated you’re _not_ interested in Draco.” ~~~~

_Goddamn Mike._

* * *

After Mike left Harry returned to his previous state of rising anxiety. Next up would be Malfoy. Harry kept his eyes on their table’s glasses getting lower and lower and with it his heartbeat got faster and faster. He started thinking about what he’d say to Malfoy and how their conversation would go. Would there be yelling? Would Malfoy ignore him? Harry had been so focused on finding out about Malfoy and his own feelings that he hadn’t actually thought about how _Malfoy_ was taking it and _his_ feelings. Harry had assumed because Malfoy’s friends had taken an interest in him and seemed to be angling for them to hook up, Malfoy would be up for the same but what if he wasn’t? What if this was some elaborate prank? What if Malfoy hated Harry just as much as he used to? More than he used to? And Harry still wasn’t sure if he even wanted to get to know Malfoy a little better. What the hell was he supposed to do?

“Hey, Terrence!” Harry briefly flicked his eyes to the side to see Seb and gang motioning Terry over.

Terry hurried over with a smile.

“What’s up, gentlemen?”

“Hey, man. Will you do me a favour? When the hot blonde comes over let Harry serve him.”

Harry’s head snapped towards them and his eyes widened in panic.

Terry looked to Harry unsurely then back to Seb.

“Um. What?”

“You know the fit leggy blonde you served when Harry was having a meltdown in the back? Sitting at table 9? He’s with the girl in the hot pink dress, you can’t really miss him?”

“Yeah…”

“Harry seriously wants to fuck him.”

Harry spluttered. “That’s not…I’ve never said-”

“Been lusting at him from afar all night,” Gerald piped up, ignoring Harry’s interruption, “but hasn’t been able to talk to him yet because when he came up to the bar you served him.”

“I have _not-”_

“Lots of built-up sexual tension by the sounds of it. How long did you say you’d known him Harry? Since you were eleven?”

Harry gaped at them. “How do you even know that?”

“We’re drunk, not blind,” Jason said bluntly. “And we’ve been eavesdropping on your intel-gathering sessions with his mates.”

Harry didn’t like the way Terry was looking at him; like Harry was obsessed and a bit crazy.

“Long story short,” Seb finished, “Harry wants to fuck him, so if you could kindly re-direct - Draco was it? – to Harry if he comes up to you, that would be swell.” He sat back and folded his arms.

“Look, I don’t know what I want,” Harry said, “We have a complicated history, more complicated than you can ever imagine. I spent a lot of my teenage years hating him and I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t know if I want to open myself up to that again. There is so much emotional baggage between us I’m not convinced we can even have a civil conversation.”

The group were silent for a moment as they processed that.

“You think he’s attractive?” Seb asked.

“Yeah…” Harry admitted.

“Are you interested in getting to know him? Find out what he’s been up to since the last time you saw him?”

“Yes…”

“Do you want to dissect all that emotional baggage and explore those complicated feelings?”

“Yes…”

Seb looked him dead in the eye. “Would you regret it if you didn’t talk to him? Is the stuff you just listed worth wondering if you’d missed out on something great for the rest of your life?”

Harry didn’t answer. The answer was obvious.

“Hello? Am I interrupting something?”

They turned simultaneously and Harry found stunning grey eyes regarding them curiously.

Harry jerked back a little. “Malfoy,” he squeaked.

“Hello, Potter.” And Malfoy smiled at him.

It wasn’t the sneer or smirk Harry was accustomed to; it was soft and sweet and even a little nervous. Harry would go as far as to say it made Malfoy look _cute._ Harry‘s heart melted and warmth spread through his chest, and he found his own lips tugging up in response.

That smile made Harry want him even more.

He wondered if he’d somehow inhaled all the fumes from the alcohol and had managed to get drunk himself.

Terry elbowed him gently in the side and when Harry glanced in his direction, he gave Harry an encouraging smile. Seb tilted his head in Malfoy’s direction, clearly indicating wordlessly that Harry should go over to him, Jason was smiling goofily and switching his attention between Malfoy and Harry, and Gerald…well, Gerald was sticking out his tongue and making crude gestures where Malfoy couldn’t see them.

Harry took a deep inhale and a slow breath out before finally approaching Malfoy.

“Hi,” he greeted, giving Malfoy a shy smile of his own, “What can I do for you?”

“What a loaded question,” Malfoy muttered under his breath. Harry wasn’t certain whether he was supposed to hear it or not. Malfoy cleared his throat. “Same as last time, please. I think we’ve reached the point where we’re all a bit too tipsy to be creative.” ~~~~

Harry chuckled and went about concocting the order and as he was pouring, he watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. ~~~~

He was even more attractive up close. When his eyes caught the light little specks of silver and blue sparkled amongst the grey and his white-blonde hair looked so soft Harry had the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. His cheekbones were as sharp as broken glass and his lips were slightly red from where he’d been biting them. He was a little flushed in the face, giving his pale cheeks a rosy glow which was probably due to the alcohol. Malfoy’s plain t-shirt had a fairly low neckline, exposing a bit of his chest and all Harry wanted to do was lick along his collarbone and down below his shirt. From what Harry could see, Malfoy’s jeans were tight and fitted and the whole ensemble clung to him in a way that let everyone know he wasn’t just a pretty face, he had a nice body too.

Harry dragged his eyes away before he got caught looking.

He couldn’t really believe he was considering Malfoy in this way. Harry would be lying if he said he’d never been attracted to him – even as a teenager Harry could recognise Malfoy was good-looking and imagined what it would be like to be intimate with him, even if that was only as a friend. Yet those had only been stray thoughts and absentminded acknowledgments, childish ponderings and, yes, the occasional lustful fantasy; he’d never once believed it would come to anything. He never thought he would be legitimately contemplating whether or not he wanted to pursue something romantically, that that was even an option, or that he would _want_ this much.

When Harry’s eyes drifted back to Malfoy, he noticed Malfoy was staring at him.

Realising he’d been caught, Malfoy quickly glanced away and focused on a point just to the left of Harry’s head as he cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot restlessly.

“I…didn’t expect to see you here,” Malfoy said, clearly uncomfortable.

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” Harry responded carefully, making sure to keep his tone even.

“Been a long time.”

“Several years now.”

“How have you been?”

“Well enough. You?”

“Same.”

It was as painfully awkward as Harry feared, but he chalked it up as a success that they hadn’t started screaming at each other across the bar and hadn’t yet resorted to hexing each other in a pub full of muggles and thus break the Statute of Secrecy. Progress.

They fell into an uneasy silence, the air tense and heavy with things left unsaid and neither one of them knowing how to react. As minutes passed with no movement from either of them, Harry started to panic that this would be it for the night, that all his questions would remain unanswered and the things he’d been worrying about would be for nothing; Malfoy would turn around, go back to his friends, and never talk to Harry again. But he couldn’t find the courage to be the one to break the increasingly oppressive silence and with each passing second it became more and more difficult to do.

Eventually, Harry finished pulling the last pint and reluctantly placed it down on the bar in front of Malfoy.

Harry cleared his throat, “That’s, er, £17.84, please.”

Malfoy nodded shortly and opened his wallet, fishing through it with what Harry refused to admit was an adorable frown on his face as he focused on finding the right coins. As he deposited the money in Harry’s open hand their fingers brushed. Harry didn’t know whether to jerk his back at the electricity that shot through him or let them linger.

“Did I get it right?”

Malfoy’s voice dragged him from his conflicted thoughts and Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him expectantly. Harry looked down at the money, did a quick count, and glanced back up. “Yes.”

Malfoy’s face lit up with a triumphant grin and Harry’s breath rushed out of him all at once. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was now; he wanted to see that expression on Malfoy’s face again and he wanted it directed at him.

Malfoy didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength. “Thanks, Potter,” he said cheerily, grabbing his drinks before turning and weaving his way expertly through the crowd as he made his way back to his table.

Harry watched him go with his mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue to call Malfoy back, and a rising sense of disappointment forming in his chest. He’d had all these things he’d wanted to say to the blonde, been fretting about it all night, and had planned most of them out but instead of exploring what could have been he was left staring at Malfoy’s back as he walked away with no more answers than he had before.

“You blew it, mate,” Seb said.

Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the bar with a loud thunk. He heard the guys around him muttering their commiserations and Terry patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. It did little to make him feel better. Of _course_ he’d blown it. Whenever Malfoy was involved, things never turned out the way Harry planned and why should that stop now they were adults.

Harry turned his head to the side, his cheek pressed into the sticky bar top and sighed dramatically, self-pity seeping into him. He frowned as his eyes fell on a full pint glass sitting right where he left it. That wasn’t right; Malfoy had five drinks on his tray, Harry had counted, so why was there still one here? Had he forgotten it? Should Harry give it to one of the waitresses to take to his table?

“Er…Harry?” Jason said.

There was the sound of a bar stool scraping against the old wooden floor and Harry heard a flurry of movement in front of him as someone hopped up onto it. Harry's eyes widened and he bolted upright to find Malfoy sat there looking at him with one eyebrow raised in amusement. His eyes darted to Harry’s cheek where his hair was glued to his skin by whatever nasty stuff had congealed on the bar. Embarrassed, Harry pulled his sleeve down and rubbed the sticky gunk off his face, feeling his cheeks heat up and grimacing as he did. Another thing Malfoy had been the best at in school was catching Harry in embarrassing situations, and it seemed he still had that ability. ~~~~

“I have a lot of questions,” Malfoy said, pulling his pint towards him and making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Harry’s breath rushed out of him in relief, “Oh thank Merlin, me too.”

Malfoy grinned and the tension eased.

Harry shuffled closer to him so they were directly opposite each other and distantly heard Terry call over one of the waitresses to take his place serving. Harry picked up a glass from under the bar and started wiping it over to give the illusion he was doing work just in case Roger came over.

They studied each other in silence for a moment before Harry summoned the Gryffindor courage he was renowned for – and that had deserted him earlier – to break it.

“So…” he started slowly, “Muggles.” Malfoy nodded. “How did that happen?”

Malfoy smiled sheepishly, “It was part of my probation to go out into the muggle world and interact with them. I think the aim was to broaden my understanding and cultural awareness so I didn’t continue to think all muggles were useless, but by that point I didn’t think that anyway. They ended up placing me in a block of flats close to a university where I met those jokers.” He jerked a thumb behind him at the group who all waved when they saw Harry looking. “When they saw how hopeless I was at everything they kind of adopted me. Showed me everything I needed to know, judging me loads but doing it anyway. After my probation was over I didn’t want to leave them, so I moved in.”

Something in Harry relaxed a little more at Malfoy’s words. He’d worried that they’d have to tiptoe around the subject of the war or it’d be tense due to their conflicting sides, but Malfoy’s casual mention of his probation made it clear he wouldn’t be offended by it. It didn’t mean all conversations on the topic would be comfortable, but the war had been such a huge part of both their lives it would be disastrous to any relationship if they couldn’t talk about it.

“But they don’t know about magic?” Harry clarified, and Malfoy shook his head. Harry raised his eyebrows, “How did you manage to keep that from them? Why did they think you couldn’t even turn on a TV?”

Malfoy shrugged, “They thought I’d been raised in some sort of cult that was closed off from the outside world and didn’t interact with normal people, which…isn’t far from the truth really.”

Harry chuckled, partially because it was true and partially from surprise at how easy it was to talk to Malfoy, “But you managed to adjust alright? How has it been?”

Harry was genuinely curious what it’d been like for Malfoy. When Harry had first entered the Wizarding World, he’d been amazed and awestruck and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He had no words to describe the feeling he’d had when he first saw magic, nor his first trip to Diagon Alley, it was such an overwhelming experience; it was different to everything he knew and added more meaning to his life, but it’d been a learning curve. He was entering a new world where the words were different, the lifestyle was different, the history was different, the animals and people and sports were all different. He’d had to learn everything from scratch and all these years later he was still discovering new things about the world he now called home. He wondered if that was what it’d been like for Malfoy – that he’d entered a whole new world and had no idea what he was doing but was blown away by it all anyway.

He wondered if the Muggle world had been as magical for Malfoy as the Wizarding World had been for Harry.

“Hard,” Malfoy answered honestly, “I knew _nothing_ about where I was or what I was walking into. I had to learn as I went along. It took me a month of reading numerous instruction manuals, observing people from my window, and interacting with the postman before I felt ready to leave my flat. Turns out I wasn’t ready, but it became a hell of a lot easier when I met those guys and actually had people showing me what to do. I’d like to think I’ve managed to adapt pretty well.” He smiled, “I mean I’m still terrified of the washing machine and the phone sometimes makes me jump, but I’ve started a love affair with ballpoint pens and I think the internet is Merlin’s gift to man.”

Harry couldn’t suppress the little smile that graced his lips. He was oddly proud of Malfoy and extremely impressed. It couldn’t have been easy doing what he’d done, going out and acclimatising as well as he had to muggle life when he’d spent his childhood being raised to reject anything related to it. When Harry had been introduced to the Wizarding World, he’d at least had people there constantly to explain things to him and there were other kids coming from non-magical backgrounds who were as confused as he was, but Malfoy had nobody. Nobody to tell him how toasters worked, nobody to explain the currency, and nobody who could understand what he was going through, but he’d still come out on top. He’d done all that even with people doubting he could do it, and based on their conversation so far Harry was willing to bet he’d become a better person because of it.

“You’ve gone quiet, Potter. Did I overshare?”

Harry coughed, “Er, no, I’m just…,” he laughed and decided to be honest, “I hate to say it, Malfoy, but I’m kind of impressed.”

Malfoy snorted, “Only took me a decade to finally get your attention.”

“You always had my attention,” Harry replied quietly.

They stared at each other for a moment, the intensity of Malfoy’s gaze making Harry slightly breathless and pulling him in. The excited chatter and drunken yells around him became muted and the world seemed to drop away. Instinctively, Harry leaned forward so he was closer to Malfoy and parted his lips.

“Do you want to know a secret,” Malfoy said, lowering his voice to a whisper so Harry had to lean in even further to hear him.

“Always,” he answered, putting the glass he was no longer pretending to clean down and resting his weight on his arms, his face close enough to Malfoy’s that he could see the way his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked.

Malfoy bit his lip as he seemed to have an internal debate with himself, and Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn down to them. Suddenly, he had the overwhelming urge to replace Malfoy’s teeth with his own and wet his lips.

Malfoy bowed his head, “Sometimes I _accidentally_ use a cleaning spell to do the washing up or _accidentally_ use an Incendio to light the fire.”

Harry gasped theatrically and put a hand to his chest, “Malfoy! Are you telling me you are using _magic_ around _muggles?_ That you are bordering on breaking the Statute of Secrecy and risking knowledge of wizardkind escaping into the muggle world? That you are,” he gasped again, “ _cleaning_?”

Malfoy smirked and again Harry’s focus was drawn to his lips, “You gonna report me, Potter?”

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine. It was so reminiscent of their schooldays but instead of an insult being spat out, there was a fondness there – no, more than fondness. There was an undertone to his words that spoke of something _more:_ challenge, emotion, passion, _lust._ Harry had a flashback of duelling in second year, when the words “Scared, Potter?” had left Malfoy’s mouth and sent a bolt of what he later realised to be desire shooting through him.

Harry shook his head. “Do you want to know a secret about me?”

“Always,” Malfoy repeated his own words back to him.

Wordlessly, Harry summoned a glass from the other end of the bar so it flew straight into his hand and watched with interest as Malfoy’s pupils dilated and his breath caught at the blatant use of wandless magic.

“I may, or may not, occasionally use a Scorify to clean the bar,” Harry said, “And I may, or may not, occasionally use a jelly-legs jinx on aggressive patrons.”

Malfoy’s face lit up and Harry resolved to put that look on his face more often.

“Potter! You’re a bad man!” Malfoy exclaimed, though his wide grin and the laughter in his voice belied that fact.

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow and lowered his voice, “Yeah? What you gonna do about it, Malfoy? Punish me?”

The smile dropped off Malfoy’s face and for one terrified moment Harry thought he’d gone too far and scared him off. Then he caught the flush to Malfoy’s cheeks and his wide eyes and realised perhaps scared was the opposite of what Malfoy was feeling.

_Now’s the moment, Harry…_

Tentatively, Harry reached his hand out to rest it on top of Malfoy’s. Malfoy’s eyes darted down to their joined hands but didn’t push him away, instead licking his lips in anticipation. Harry let out a slow, controlled breath and tilted his head to the side as he went to close the gap between his mouth and Malfoy’s and-

“Oh, just kiss already!”

“For God’s sake, Gerald!”

And the moment was gone.

Malfoy shook his head as if to clear the fog and to Harry’s disappointment leaned away from him. Reluctantly, Harry followed his lead and took a step away and knew his expression would be one of dejection. Malfoy would hop off the bar stool, turn on his heel and stroll out of Harry’s life like this had never happened. It made him oddly sad thinking of his life being Malfoy-less again. He hadn’t thought of him often over the years, but after meeting him here tonight and spending time with him he realised part of him had missed the Slytherin. It sounded cliché, but Harry hadn’t noticed that there was a part of him missing until Malfoy sauntered in and slotted himself into the gap. Whilst Harry’s life was thankfully calmer and more comfortable than his teenage years, he had become stuck in a rut doing the same thing every day with the same people and that wasn’t who he was; he was someone who needed some excitement, some danger, something to get his blood pumping and Malfoy had always been that for him. He thought it spoke volumes that whilst Harry’s life was full of people who loved him, he’d still volunteered to work New Year’s Eve rather than spend it with anyone special.

“My turn.”

“What?” Harry said, bewildered.

“You got to ask your questions,” Malfoy said, and Harry envied how his voice only shook a bit. “Now I get to ask mine. You’re not escaping that easy.”

_He wasn’t leaving._

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief, “Shoot.”

“How did you end up,” Malfoy waved his arms around in the air to gesture to the pub, “here.”

Harry drummed his fingers on the bar as he considered his answer. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to share with Malfoy, Merlin knows the other man had been open and forthcoming with him, it was just such a long and complicated story he wasn’t sure they had time for it. He glanced quickly at the clock and noticed there was only ten minutes until midnight.

He wetted his lips and started cautiously, “When me and Ginny broke up, I…had a bit of a meltdown.”

Malfoy tilted his head to the side as he considered him before nodding his head in a wordless signal for Harry to continue.

“She dumped me,” Harry said bluntly, “I thought she was going to be the person I spent the rest of my life with, would have a family with, and love forever. But she…Did you see the papers?”

Malfoy shook his head, “All they said was that you two had amicably decided to split up as you both had different wants in life.” He paused before raising his eyebrows knowingly, “It was strangely innocuous and brief for a _Prophet_ article about the breakup of a celebrity couple, not to mention anything to do with ‘the destroyer of darkness and saviour of wizardkind,’” Malfoy said. Harry snickered. “Granger?”

“Yup. Say what you want about her but she can strike fear into even the most heartless journalist with her arsenal of curses and knowledge.”

“Yes, I’m aware of her skills,” Malfoy said, smiling at him reassuringly. There was no judgement in those eyes, nothing to indicate that Malfoy would spill his secrets to anyone nor laugh at him for them.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn’t be talking about a painful breakup with an ex to someone he was trying to impress and was attracted to, but Malfoy was surprisingly easy to talk to and he had asked. “We were at the Harpies practice grounds. Ginny was reserve seeker then and I used to watch her training sessions simply because I loved watching her fly. When they finished up and she landed, she looked so alive and happy and excited and she filled me with so much joy, that I knew it was the right time.” He sighed, “So I waited until she was alone, brought out the ring I’d had on me for over a year, and asked her to marry me.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened as the implications of that sunk in, “But you’re not married,” he paused, “She said no?”

“If she’d simply said no I could’ve handled it,” Harry admitted before grimacing, “Well, no, I probably couldn’t have. It was the look on her face, the horror and embarrassment. Apparently, she was planning on talking to me about seeing other people and ending our relationship that weekend. She told me she’d been deliberately avoiding me for over a month hoping I would get the picture and bring it up myself, so whilst I thought she was busy with work and tried to arrange my day so I could spend time with her, she was partying and making plans so our schedules clashed and finding any excuse she could to not see me. She didn’t want to be with me anymore, she didn’t think we had enough in common, and she said she was disappointed with our relationship. That she felt like we were moving too fast and I was pressuring her to settle down when she wasn’t ready to and wanted to focus on her career. I think her image of me and the reality of me didn’t match up. I was heartbroken.” Harry shrugged, “So I ran.”

“You disappeared,” Malfoy remembered. “Nobody saw you for months.”

Harry nodded, “I just kept running until I couldn’t run anymore. I didn’t know where I was going, had no idea where I was, had no plan on a route. I took random turns and went down dark alleys, until I ran out of steam.” He pointed to the door, “I stopped just outside the door there, my eyes stung from crying, soaked through because of the rain, and freezing. I came in here and the atmosphere…it didn’t make everything better, not by a long shot, but the staff and patrons saw the state I was in, brought me in from outside, and kept me warm. And the best bit was they had no ulterior motive. Nobody knew who I was. I could breakdown and receive sympathy rather than judgement. Roger let me stay in the upstairs rooms until I was ready to go. I tried to after a week, but the moment I stepped into Diagon Alley I was ambushed. Ginny had started seeing the Magpies’ chaser and hadn’t cared about keeping it discrete. The anonymity I had at the pub called to me and so I came back. Roger offered me a job, and I moved into a flat a couple of streets away. I don’t think I’ve ever felt freer.”

Malfoy was silent for a few moments, taking all the information in and processing it. His expression was open and to his relief Harry saw no pity or disgust, simply curiosity and perhaps a hint of understanding. If Harry remembered correctly, Malfoy’s family were hounded almost as much as he was after the war, never being left alone. Harry supposed if anyone could understand the freedom the muggle world brought it would be Malfoy.

Malfoy suddenly frowned, “Didn’t you break up with Weasley like five years ago now?”

“Stalking me, are you, Malfoy?” Harry said humorously.

Malfoy laughed and the underlying worry Harry had that he’d be scared off by his story dissipated. “Not anymore,” he answered, quickly continuing before Harry could ask about that, “You’ve been working here all this time? Living nearby?” Harry nodded and Malfoy shook his head in disbelief, “It’s funny, we only live around the corner and I’ve never seen you here before.”

 _Maybe we weren’t ready to see each other again yet_ , Harry thought.

“Do you live nearby then?”

Malfoy smiled, “Yeah, you know the chippie on Donald Close?”

Harry nodded and he felt anticipation growing in him. It couldn’t be true, Malfoy couldn’t have been living _that_ close to Harry for the last five years and they not run into each other. There was no way he and Malfoy had chosen the same area to live in, not when they were such different people with different lives and both seemed to have ended up living in the muggle world by chance.

_Fate._

“We live opposite that in the building with the horrid pink neon heart in the window.” His face screwed up in disgust, “Scarlett likes pink.”

Harry’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. He passed that window every Saturday when he went to pick up his dinner from that takeaway. Malfoy had been close the entire time and he hadn’t even realised it.

“I live in the block of flats on Higgins Road with the giant toadstool statue in the garden,” Harry contributed, watching as Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open, the same thoughts clearly running through his head.

“Alone?” was all he said out loud.

“What?”

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Do you live there alone? No…flatmate?”

The way he’d said ‘flatmate’ made Harry think Malfoy had wanted to say something else but stopped himself.

“Nope. Just me and Pepper. My owl,” Harry clarified at Malfoy’s inquiring look. “You? Do you all live together?”

Harry could admit to himself that he was fishing for information. He wanted to know who Malfoy lived with, if he lived alone, if Harry could perhaps go round to see him or would he get laughed at or jumped by persistent and over-involved flatmates.

“No. Me, Scarlett and Bruce all live together. Felicity and Mike are dating, have been for four years, so live together a couple of rooms down.”

Harry’s expression must have betrayed his terror at the thought of Felicity, who Harry was convinced would eat him alive given the chance, and Mike, who had no filter and no boundaries, together because Malfoy gave him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, I know. They are a force to be reckoned with when they’re together. Thrive off chaos and making people uncomfortable, but they compliment each other beautifully and want the same things. They’re the perfect couple.” He paused. “Though it’s best not to mess with them, you should bear that in mind.”

It sounded to Harry like Malfoy expected to see him again. More than that, it sounded like Malfoy expected him to be around his friends, perhaps in his flat, but he might have been reading too much into it.

“I will,” Harry said, “Two conversations with them both was enough to know it’s best to stay on their good side.”

Malfoy regarded him with a look that was caught somewhere between curiosity, suspicion and worry. “Yes, I noticed you and my friends having some interesting-looking conversations. What did they say to you?”

“Nothing bad,” Harry replied vaguely.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, “Yeah? That’s why you ran off when Mike got his round?”

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot, “I didn’t run off. That was a tactical retreat.”

“Uh huh,” Malfoy said, clearly not believing him. “Do I need to have words with them? Do I need to curse them or spike their drinks with a Weasley product?”

Harry laughed, “I think they’d notice something was up if they started vomiting up blue liquid and you didn’t.”

“I can be sneaky.”

“I know,” Harry grinned, “To be honest they mostly seemed to be trying to wheedle information out of me. Mostly about my sex life. If I was seeing anyone. If I was available. If I was into men or women.”

“And what was the answer?”

Harry started in surprise at the direct question. Malfoy had never hidden his opinion, taking great joy in telling Harry exactly what he thought of him, but he thought he’d at least balk at asking something so personal about his school rival. Harry had never hidden his sexuality from people, but he didn’t go screaming it from the rooftops either.

But he wasn’t ashamed, and he was attracted to Malfoy. He _wanted_ Malfoy and he thought there was a chance Malfoy wanted him too.

“Both. And I _am_ available. You?” Harry flung back.

“I’m open minded. And available.”

The way he was eyeing him up suggested Malfoy was more than a little open minded.

“That’s…that’s great,” Harry said, not sure how to respond without revealing the way his heart soared.

“You told my friends this?”

Harry tried to recall the conversations he’d had and frowned, “No, why?”

Malfoy waved his hand dismissively and wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes, “It would explain some of the things they’ve been saying tonight. That’s all.”

Harry suddenly wanted to know _exactly_ what they’d been whispering about. He had a horrible feeling it would be embarrassing for Harry.

“Well, Harry didn’t need to say it! It was written all over his face that he wanted to fuck you over the bar.”

Harry couldn’t help the squeak that came out of his mouth as his head snapped towards the group of men he’d been serving earlier, all of them trying to hurriedly shush a very intoxicated Gerald.

“Oh sweet Merlin,” Harry whispered.

“Er,” Malfoy said, looking between Harry and the group. “That’s nice?” ~~~~

Gerald was nodding, “Yeah, he’s been trying to coax them into revealing information about you all night. Borderline stalking you if you ask me.”

“That’s nothing new,” Malfoy said.

Harry turned sharply back to Malfoy and found him looking at Harry with amusement and clearly trying not to laugh. Harry wanted to slam his head onto the bar again so nobody could see his face. “It was practically his hobby in school.”

Harry felt he should at least attempt to defend himself, “Firstly, I knew you were up to something and wanted to prove it. And secondly…I didn’t know you knew that I was following you.”

“You ran into a suit of armour. Twice.”

“I swear those things moved into my path deliberately!”

Malfoy snorted and turned back to Gerald, “What else did they talk about?”

Harry shook his head violently but Malfoy ignored him, just glanced at him with an emotion Harry couldn’t identify dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, all sorts of things,” Gerald said, batting away his friends attempts to stop him, “That you were too shy to proclaim your undying love for Harry. That you wanted to ask Harry out and he was just your type. That you spoke about him all the time and thought he was hot. That you looked really good underneath your clothes.”

Malfoy choked and that was all the vindication Harry needed. He gave Malfoy a smug look and folded his arms.

But then Gerald continued. “That Harry wanted to have hate-sex with you and spied on you in the shower at school. That he wanted to lick chocolate sauce off your naked body. That he had fantasies about you pinning him down and fucking him. That he was interested in you. That he wanted to kiss you when the clock struck midnight.”

“No!” Harry yelled, holding his hand out as if that would stop the words spilling out of Gerald’s mouth.

“So you don’t want to?” Malfoy asked.

“What? Well, no, I do but-”

“Ten seconds until midnight!” Terry shouted from nearby. The crowd cheered and started counting down.

“Ten!”

Malfoy reached over to pick up a napkin from a dispenser and snatched the pen out of Harry’s shirt pocket.

“Nine!”

He scribbled something down in his perfectly neat writing and handed it to Harry.

“Eight!”

“My phone number,” Malfoy said as Harry took it wordlessly, looking down at it with amazement. “You have a phone, right?”

“Seven!”

Harry nodded and gripped the napkin tightly before gently folding it up and putting it in his trouser pocket so he didn’t lose it.

“Six!”

“Or owl me,” Malfoy continued. “My friends are used to owls popping in and out. They won’t mind.”

“Five!”

Harry stared at him.

“Or just come by the flat anytime you like. You know where I live and somebody is usually in,” Malfoy said, shifting uncomfortably and Harry realised he’d yet to respond.

“Four!”

Harry nodded, “Same to you. You can owl me or come around my place. Maybe text me first though so I can let you in. I’ll text you my number.”

“Three!”

The smile on Malfoy’s face made Harry’s heart soar and the promise of seeing that again, of having Malfoy’s permission to hang out with him and laugh with him and talk with him, made him more excited and happier than he had been for a while. He was looking forward to it.

“Two!”

The two of them stared at each other and for the second time that night it felt like the world around them didn’t exist. Harry was certain – and he thought Malfoy was too – that the two of them could be great together, _happy_ together, and could make this work. They _would_ make this work. They complimented each other perfectly and the intense feelings they had for each other, had always had for each other, were worth holding on too. Most importantly, they understood each other better than anyone else could: the loneliness whilst being surrounded by people, the peace anonymity brought, the affection for the muggle world, the traumas of war and the fighting to recover from that and be a better person. They were what each other needed in their lives and were the missing pieces of each other.

“One!”

Draco planted his hands on the bar and lifted himself up off the barstool and forwards a little. Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he didn’t dare look away as Draco leaned in close to him and gently pecked Harry on the lips.

“Happy New Year, Potter,” Draco whispered.

Harry blushed and smiled widely before he reached out to cup Draco’s cheek, closed his eyes, and brought their mouths together again simply because he _wanted to_. He put everything into that kiss: his passion, his desire, his want, his emotions, his hopes, his trust, his promise. His promise to Draco that he would fight for this and love him and make him happy and, with the enthusiasm Draco was responding with, Harry felt his promise being returned.

Cheers erupted as fireworks sounded outside and Big Ben rung on the TV. The two loudest cheers came from a group of drunk men sitting at the bar and a table of four towards the back of the pub.

If this was any indication about what was to come, it was going to be one hell of a year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop me a comment if you can spare some time xxx


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